


You Must Be On To Me

by moonlightof1982



Series: Haunted [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightof1982/pseuds/moonlightof1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petyr comes home and gets a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Must Be On To Me

Petyr finally made it back up the Giant’s Lance, and inside of the Eyrie. It was the dead of night. The moon was high, dark amber, and large in the night sky. The air was cool and crisp. He was fully pleased to be back. He was exhausted from the traveling, and in no mood for anyone’s horseshit. The Lords of the Vale were begrudging, but accepting of his authority as Lord Protector of the Vale, but still some of them looked for a way to get him out of power. He wasn't the least bit afraid of them, for as long as he had Sweetrobin, his rule was secure. The boy was only eight years old, and until he was six-and ten, Petyr was in command.

Some of the Lords, such as Nestor Royce, Symond Templeton, and Anya Waynwood, were on board with Petyr. While other’s like “Bronze” Yohn Royce, and Benedar Belmore were not supportive. It was no matter. He had planted spies throughout all his adversaries castles, and Ser Lyn Corbray, as per their arrangement, spoke against Petyr to his enemies in public, and revealed their plans to Petyr in private. “When the Long Winter comes, they will have more problems to deal with than me.“, Petyr thought, grinning.

Even if Sweetrobin died earlier than expected, and the other lords forced him out, Petyr was prepared to leave the Eyrie. Nestor Royce had promised Petyr a safe haven at the Gates Of The Moon for life. He too was building a massive manse over in Gulltown with his old associates, if Nestor’s promise fell through. He was also rebuilding the dismal tower on his homeland of the Fingers. “It may be a land with nothing but sheep shit, and rocks, but it is home, and I will be able to afford servants to clean up the muck.”, considered Petyr. With the rule of Harrenhall in his pocket, he could retire as Lord Paramount of the Trident, the wealthiest and greatest lord in the land. 

But Petyr had no interest in leaving, or early retirement, and the lords were not going to force him out without the fight of their lives. He loved playing them, making them doubt themselves. He felt invincible because he could always outsmart them. 

When he was young and foolish, he tried the sword and shield route. He had read the stories just like all the other boys. The little hero always beats the big villain doesn't he? The flaming red scar that extended from his collarbone to his navel, was bone-hard evidence that the stories were all wrong. 

On that horrid day, a dark apparition named “Littlefinger” took over Petyr Baelish. “Littlefinger” stood as the guardian, and gatekeeper to Petyr, as The Bloody Gate guarded the Eyrie. “Littlefinger” would do all of what Petyr Baelish couldn't do. “Littlefinger” would protect Petyr from ever being hurt like that again. Petyr Baelish may have suffered a humiliating loss to Brandon Stark, but “Littlefinger” was the one who encouraged “The Mad King“, Aerys Targaryen to kill Brandon Stark the day he reached King’s Landing. And what a glorious day it was!

Brandon came to the Red Keep looking for Rhaegar, arrogantly shouting, “come out and die”, but instead the Mad King entered instead, and it was Brandon, and his father, Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell, that died that day. The Mad King charged them both with treason, and plotting the murder of the King’s Son, and with that, the punishment was carried out. Brandon was forced to watch his father being roasted alive in his own amour. Brandon was bound to a leather cord around his neck, and a sword that was just out of his reach. He strangled himself in the attempt to reach the sword, to cut down, and free his father. 

Seeing that spectacle filled Petyr with such a deep, and quiet satisfaction, that he thanked the Seven, in the Sept, after it was done. Petyr never got to marry Catelyn as he so wanted, but “Littlefinger”, with a few, well chosen words, had done what Petyr couldn't do, not even with all the arms in Westeros. 

Peytr walked to the kitchens in search of food. He was starving, and his grumbling stomach supported that fact. As he sat at the table, eating grapes, buttered bread, and drinking wine, he thought of his only weakness; The Lady Sansa Stark, of Winterfell. 

She was so beautiful. Her bright blue eyes, the color of a sunlit sea. Her lips, red, full, and soft, her skin, so smooth, the color of ivory. She had bewitched him since the moment he saw her, and he had to have her, no matter the risk. 

When he first meet her, she as only a child, but the horror, she had suffered in King’s Landing, had matured her. She was a woman now. And not just a woman, but a sensual and passionate woman, with a dark feral quality to her that was aching to be released! And yet, despite her insatiable passion, there was a sweet innocence about her, and it didn't falter once her passion was unleashed. She was a true contradiction, a hypnotizing mystery, that even Petyr himself wasn’t sure that he could solve. 

He missed her throughout his entire trek across the Vale. In the two weeks, away from her, he had been aching to see her. He missed her so much, and wanted to reconnect with her in every way. In his saddlebag, were two special gifts for her, and he could not wait for her it see them. But it would have to wait for tomorrow, seeing as she was asleep, and he was tired after his long journey.

Petyr quietly walked back to his solar, and angrily found his quarters in a strange disarray. He was a very orderly man, and everything had it’s place, so what he saw, very much displeased him. 

His important documents were wrinkled, and pushed across the table. Some of them were on the floor. A pot of ink had spilled across some of the papers, and onto the desk, staining the wood. His oak, and leather chair was knocked completely over, and someone had been drinking his wine. The entire flagon of Arbor Gold was empty. A blazing fire was still in the hearth, as if someone, not long ago, was just there. “The servants will be punished for this, I swear!”, mumbled Petyr. 

As he bent down to pick up the fallen documents, he heard noises coming from his darkened bedchamber. Someone else was here! Petyr ran, closed and bolted the door. Still carrying his saddlebag, he picked up a lone, lit candle, and crept toward the bedchamber.

Once inside, he closed and bolted the door, and saw who was there.

She was naked in his bed, toying with herself. She had wrapped the Myrish Lace around her fingers, and was rubbing that lace against her naked vaginal skin. She was pinching, and tweaking one of her succulent nipples, making it harden, and turn a deeper hue. Thoughts of him, licking, and sucking them flashed through his mind. There was a puddle of her wetness beneath her. She was moaning and writhing and lost in pleasure, and had no idea that he was there. Petyr grinned wickedly… and waited. 

Petyr had the focus of a viper as he gazed at Sansa. He was completely transfixed upon her. The sight of Sansa, naked, on his bed, playing with herself, was almost too much for him to bear. Her eyes slowly opened, first looking to the window, and then, at him. The passion in her hazy eyes, slowly turned to surprise and fear, but her fingers kept fondling her sweet flesh. Petyr could feel his thick cock snaking down his leg.

**Author's Note:**

> Petyr's POV. This is the first time I've written from Petyr's perspective. Had to do him right, and with a little twist! GRRM did not write Brandon and Rickard dying on the urging of Petyr Baelish. The story I've created is false, just like all the stories of this website, so it doesn't have to be perfectly accurate.


End file.
